


Antifreeze

by Tharapita



Series: Ice Burns [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Crying, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Drinking to Forget, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Excessive Drinking, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Possibly Attempted Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tharapita/pseuds/Tharapita
Summary: Soon after DMC 3 Morrison finds Dante drunk out of his mind. Or not quite, which is almost worse when what’s within Dante’s mind becomes unfrozen.
Relationships: Dante and Morrison are Friends
Series: Ice Burns [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877038
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Antifreeze

Morrison was worried. Not that he would openly admit it, of course, but he had left Dante in a definitely unstable state, and he now hadn't had a job for him for over a week. If he knew anything about the half-devil, he'd have destroyed half the furniture in the shop by now, or passed out drunk on the sofa downstairs. Or possibly both, he mused as he pushed open the door to Devil May Cry. That's why he was checking up on the poor sod in the first place. 

What assaulted him first was the smell. The entire place reeked of alcohol so strong Morrison was tempted to joke he got drunk just by breathing it, but that was quickly quelled in his throat when he actually saw the man in red. He wasn't passed out, but was most definitely drunk, slumped over his desk and literally surrounded by empty bottles. There were bottles on the floor, on the desk, on the pool table, covering the floor and even up the stairs. A quick once-over told Morrison that there was every spirit available represented here, absinthe, whiskey, port, gin. Even more worrying, there weren't any empty pizza boxes around either. When was the last time Dante had eaten? Certainly wouldn't help with the alcohol consumption. 

He started forward towards Dante but knocked over a bottle at his feet, only it wasn't glass. Looking down, confusion rippling across Morrison's face, what he saw made his heart plummet through the bottom of his feet. It was an empty bottle of disinfectant, in fact, there were several bottles of disinfectant around. Bloody hell Dante had been drinking disinfectant on top of the alcohol. Fuck, how was he not dead. At the sound of the bottle being knocked over Dante looked up at Morrison from his inebriated throne. He looked worse than expected. Clearly the disinfectant had done horrors to his body, and it was only his healing keeping him alive, he was white as his hair, his eyes crusty and bloodshot with huge bags underneath, his hair was stuck up at odd angles around his face where he had clearly been slumped on his desk for a long time, and his mouth hung lacklustre at the bottom of his face like he had no idea what to do with it. He wasn't wearing a top, his muscles hanging limply around him, and Morrison could only hope he was wearing trousers. 

Confusion spread agonisingly slowly across the half-devil's face as he tried desperately to comprehend what or who was happening. He eyes looked dead, not really seeing Morrison as he just stood there aghast at the state of his friend, before ever so slowly realising what exactly he was seeing.  
"'ullo Morrissson." He slurred, before taking a swig from the bottle in his hand and then returning his head to the desk in disinterest. The liquid in the bottle was blue, Morrison noticed. Holy hell the man was drinking anti-freeze.  
"Dante." Morrison began, unsure of how to go on. He had seen Dante drunk before, and he was always unpredictable. And he knew how dangerous he was. The last thing he wanted was to cause more harm. "Dante you're drinking antifreeze." The white-haired man didn't even bother to look up from his desk this time, his icy blue eyes just looked at Morrison with thinly-veiled distain from where he lay.  
"Shop wouldn't sell m' nothin'." He muttered, gesturing vaguely about him. "Took it out th' car." The amount of apathy the devil hunter was showing, it was scaring Morrison, as if the other things weren't enough. He really wasn't sure how to approach the drunken mess of a man. 

"Can smell your fear." Dante mumbled, still unmoved. He took another swig of antifreeze, not even moving. "Really am amonster." Morrison felt guilt, anger and compassion. Uncaring of the bottles he sent careening away we wound his way towards the desk, towards his friend, guilt boiling inside him. How many days had Dante been like this? It was 10 am so clearly more than just today. Morrison had a dread feeling that the mark was closer to 4. God he should have come earlier. He should have checked on his friend not just left him to fester with his pain.  
"If you can smell that you can also smell concern. I'm worried for you, Dante. You can't do this to yourself." He said as he grabbed the half-devil's arm and swung it over his shoulder, pulling him up out of his seat. He also tried to wrestle the antifreeze out of his hand, but the other man's grip was far too strong for him to manage so instead it stayed in his hand, the liquid sloshing in the bottle. "You can't drink antifreeze."  
"Already did." Dante replied, not even trying to walk, he head lolling back onto Morrison's shoulder. He wasn't surprised, at this point it was a miracle he was still alive let alone that he couldn't walk, but he was a lot heavier than he looked and Morrison felt himself worrying about how far he could carry the man. "Stronger than-" again Dante gestured vaguely out at the forest of bottles "other stuff." 

There was silence for a moment as Morrison tried desperately to manhandle the man through the obstacle course of glass bottles. Already he could see a couple had been broken and he was dreading coming back and cleaning this place up, but he certainly wasn't leaving Dante to do it.  
"You're lucky you're not dead." He said, thankfully nearing the door to the shop now, the man's weight seemed to be increasing the further they went and Morrison wasn't sure how much longer he could carry him. He was not abandoning him, however, never again. He was going to drive Dante home to his flat where he could keep an eye on him, and he was not trusting him to himself for a long long time. Dante was just giving Morrison a dead stare through his mess of hair, his eyes boring holes into Morrison's.  
"Unlucky." He muttered. Before they went through the doors of the shop and Dante's head lolled forward, eyes pulled away from Morrison's.  
"Dante don't say that. We all need you and we all like you. We like you alive." Morrison didn't get a reply to that and silence pervaded the pair as he dragged the half-conscious man down the steps to the shop, his feet going thunk thunk behind them, and managed to push him into the passenger seat of his car, plugging the seatbelt around him. He dashed quickly back up and locked the shop, thank goodness a client hadn't been around while Dante had been in this state. 

Returning to the car, he found the bottle of antifreeze again in the man's mouth, and this time anger filled Morrison, towards the half-devil and towards himself.  
"Dante!" He called, storming back out to the car and swinging himself into the driver’s seat beside the devil hunter. "You can't drink anti-freeze!" He grabbed the bottle again, and although Dante was not loosening his grip in the slightest, Morrison was determined that he was not letting him keep it. "You'll do yourself damage Dante."  
"Don't care." The white haired man replied, not letting up at all on his grip and tugging back against Morrison more violently than he was used to. It was one thing to know what Dante was capable of, but it was quite another to feel your arm nearly dislocated.  
"I care Dante. I care a lot if you do damage to yourself. So don’t for my sake if not for your own.” Morrison watched as confusion rippled slowly the drunk man’s face, his eyes scrunching up as he looked directly into his own. Eventually he shrugged and gave up the bottle into Morrison’s still tugging hand in defeat, and turned to sulk resting his head against the passenger window. Suppose that was the best Morrison could hope for. 

They were blasting along the highway when Dante spoke again. Morrison had thought his passenger had gone to sleep, he had been resting his head on the window with his face hidden behind a curtain of white hair. It was the last thing Morrison expected for Dante’s voice, weaker and more vulnerable than he had ever heard before, to waver out,  
“Am scared, Morrison.” It was almost a whisper, and Morrison would’ve missed it if he hadn’t have been worrying the entire time. He looked across, sharply, despite the fact he should’ve been looking at the road. “He was m’ brother ‘n’ I-“ The half devil stopped at that, his voice breaking as a badly stifled sob ruptured out of him. Morrison couldn’t bear it anymore at that, the pain in Dante’s voice broke him as much as it broke Dante himself. He pulled the car into the emergency stopping lane sharply, ignoring the cacophony of car horns that blasted around him. Throwing the car into a stop, he turned and looked at Dante, who was again gazing into the window in what seemed to be a vain attempt to pretend he had never said anything. Morrison reached across in a fluid moment and grabbed Dante’s chin, forcing him to look directly into his eyes.  
“Listen to me, Dante.” He said, his face stern but kind. He hated to see Dante forcing himself into this state, and he hated even more the self-loathing that forced him to it. “You’re probably too drunk to remember this but you can’t keep blaming yourself like this. It wasn’t your fault, you have done nothing but the best you can and you can’t keep beating yourself up over it. Talk to me and heal please.”

Dante jerked his head, discomfort at the contact written across his face and yet at the same time, understanding was mixed into the pain that filled his expression. He hadn’t turned his head away from the human, however, but was looking at him, which was at least better than gazing into the window. Morrison was severely out of his depth but he hoped that at least meant that he was helping. God he wished this was easier.  
“I’m so violent, Morrison.” Dante muttered, his voice still agonisingly vulnerable. “My instincts all the time are yelling at me to find fights and rip and tear things. Especially-“ Dante interrupted himself as another sob erupted from him and this time he didn’t even try to stifle it- “especially people. That woman that hit you, I wanted nothing more than to tear her head off, right then and - and - I’m so scared. I - they - want me to get more powerful. Just like Verg - “ another two sobs broke Dante, as he continued to stare at Morrison’s ear. He couldn’t say his name. God Morrison wished he could help more. “He is - was - is my brother and - and my instincts say I should want to be like him. But I don’t and I do. It’d make me a monster, acting on instinct, but my brother’s not a monster is he?“ Yet more sobs. “It was instinct to leave him and now he’s alone down there and I left him and-“ Dante broke then, tears tearing themselves from his eyes and streaking down his face as he cried openly. 

Morrison couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear it with his friend like this, and he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled the white haired mess into his arms, shoving his head onto his shoulder and let him cry. It was loud and painful and the bare shoulders shook against his own with each ragged breath. Slowly, slowly they abated, the odd gulped breath here and there eased into more and Dante’s shoulders slowly relaxed into a more solid position. He felt awful for him, not only was he dealing with the guilt of possibly killing his own twin but he also had the constant fear of himself becoming a monster without realising it. God no wonder the man had drunk disinfectant and anti-freeze. Even worse, his words weren’t the rambling tones of drunkenness but the searing reality of pain. No matter Dante’s current level of coherency those words, those fears had come directly from him. Good God it was amazing this had only come to a head now. 

Eventually, Morrison felt that Dante had stopped crying at least, and slowly slid him so that he was again looking into his eyes. Unlike earlier, when Dante had been rigid with what Morrison now understood to be fear the topless man was now limp and heavy, although not drunk but more like all the energy had been stolen from him. The human held the white haired man at the top of his arms, his head tilted back and looked at him through the bottom of his fringe.  
“Dante.” Morrison began, hoping to whomever might listen that this worked. That he could help at least a little to ease the unimaginable pain that Dante lived with every day. “The very fact that you feel guilt over this proves to me you’re not a monster. If you fear loosing yourself enough to drive you to antifreeze, you’re not going to let it happen easily. Of course it’s not that simple I know but all the time I’ve known you you’ve done the honest, moral, human thing every time. Every job you’ve been on you’ve done the right thing first and foremost. To me, that proves you are in control more than you give yourself credit for. You are what you are but the fact you are even aware that your instincts are something you are afraid of means it’s less of a threat than perhaps you think it is.” 

Morrison hesitated for a moment, relief washing over him as he saw understanding and thankfulness beginning to replace the pain that covered Dante’s face. “As for Ver - for your brother, you did all you could. You can’t feel guilty for not being able to break the universe. I know that’s not enough and guilt is a natural feeling but don’t - don’t let it consume you. You’re not being fair on yourself if you keep beating yourself up over him.” Dante nodded slowly, but Morrison felt that was more to keep him happy than really because he believed what the human had said. That was understandable though. Guilt like that, it wasn’t shifted easily if at all. It would take time for Dante to think over himself and his brother and come to terms with it himself. Morrison only hoped he would remember this moment and it would help when he decided to try and heal. 

As for his fear, Morrison really had no idea. He didn’t know how to even being to empathise with him but he stood by all he had said. “Come on, I’m driving you to my flat, you can crash on my couch like a student.” He laughed joylessly. “You’ll have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, but as long as you keep talking to me, I think you’ll be ok.” Morrison honestly believed that. It resonated within him somewhere. The more Dante spent time with him and other people, the more he would find peace within himself. He hoped. “You gotta promise me, to keep being talking to me, alright?” Dante nodded again and this time, it was genuine. It was the look in his eyes that gave it away, the way his bottom lids crinkled.

Slowly, Dante eased himself away from contact with Morrison, shifting himself back across the handbrake. Jeez that couldn’t have been comfortable. The half devil leaned back into the car seat, looking relaxed for the first time, Morrison realised, since Temen-ni-Gru. He gave Dante’s upper arm one last rub before turning back to the wheel. He couldn’t crash on his sofa after all until they’d driven there.

Dante was asleep by the time they finally reached Morrison’s house, but just before they did he whispered so quietly,  
“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered how exactly Dante dealt with the ending of DMC 3, and I know he has Lady but I figured with Morrison being such a constant figure in the anime he would be caught up in the fallout as well. 
> 
> And before you say, no there is no shipping here this is entirely platonic THEY ARE FRIENDS. It is possible for people to comfort each other without wanting to then have sex.
> 
> Please tell me what you liked, what you didn’t or any other thoughts that’re knocking around your head, I’d love to hear them! XD


End file.
